


13 Stitches

by edwardnashtons (freckledandspectacled), freckledandspectacled



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Complicated Relationships, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Triangles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Rimming, Stitches, it's a more complicated shape than a triangle that does not yet exist, kind of?, post-craniotomy care, you can say that again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-10-31 18:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17855252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/edwardnashtons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: As Jim deals with the aftermath of Barbara's revelation, Edward offers to help with the injury on his neck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing Riddlergordon, and I'm surprised at how well it worked. Ed has been in need of some serious comfort after everything he's been through, and Jim does care about him in his typical gruff way.

Jim was still slouched over his desk in the Captain’s office, reeling from the news Barbara had dropped on him. Lee hadn’t hung around for long, quietly excusing herself with a look not unlike shellshock and a muttered explanation about finding Lucius to remove the chip. He was on his second glass of the celebratory scotch Harvey had given to him, still left over in the office from his own brief tenure as Captain. Alvarez had appeared moments later, asking Jim to come and direct the proceedings as they dealt with what the army had left behind in the precinct. Harvey had offered to go with him and handle it instead. That was fine by him. In fact, Jim was grateful to be alone with his thoughts and some booze to numb them. 

A knock on the door put an end to his solitude. Jim glanced up to see Ed with his head stuck through the gap in the door, smiling with his lips pressed just a little too tightly together, like he was nervous he’d be turned away. At once Jim was transported to another time in the same place, a strong sense of déjà vu overwhelming him. Ed’s expression was almost exactly like it had been years ago, hesitantly peering into Essen’s office despite the fact that she’d specifically asked him to come. Ed had always gone about the GCPD like he thought he’d been turned away any second. The only area that had inspired his persistence had been the medical examiner’s lab; what a fiasco that had been until Lee arrived...

Ed shouldered in a little farther, putting his arm through to display a first aid kit to Jim. _I come in peace_. Back then, it could have been the results of an autopsy, or maybe a crucial break in a case he was working on. Jim had been too late when it came to appreciating Ed’s work years ago, and it was certainly too late to do anything about it now. He hadn’t really understood why Ed turned on him until he saw him hanging off Oswald’s arm during his election campaign. He should have known when he saw them together that they were closer than Ed later lead him to believe. Oswald had gone to Arkham for Galavan’s murder, though it had been Jim who pulled the trigger. He could only assume that Ed had framed him for a different murder as retribution. He’d been forced to leave Lee behind, just as Oswald had become inaccessible to Ed. 

It was remarkable how their relationships had seemed to sour at the same time. He didn’t know the details, but it was clear as day to him that despite their animosity, Oswald and Edward still only cared about each other. Yes, Oswald had traded Edward’s location for his freedom—that was true—but the fact that Edward had likely gone to him for help beforehand spoke volumes about their continued relationship. Of course, Oswald had no way of knowing at the time that giving him said information would put Ed in danger. Jim wondered if that would have made a difference in his compliance. 

Regardless, he could understand their continued connection quite well. Even now, Jim was still risking his life for Lee when it had been years since their relationship well and truly ended. 

“May I?” Ed asked, startling Jim from his reverie. He slipped through the door and quietly let it click shut behind him. In the dark office only half his face was illuminated by a nearby lamp, casting dramatic shadows over his unconventional features. Jim was reminded of old noir films as Ed surveyed him, turning in the stripes from the blinds. The dim lighting was desaturating, and as he took in the sight of Ed as he timidly leaned against the door, it occurred to him that the man looked almost _handsome_ in black and white.

Gesturing at the scotch in Jim’s hand, Ed broke his train of thought, “Harvey was already gossiping. I overheard. I suppose congratulations are in order?”

Jim threw back the rest of it, “Oh, you mean you were eavesdropping? Look, Ed, if you’re here to take a jab at me, _don’t_.”

“No,” Ed said, shaking his head. “I just… I saw Lee walk out afterwards—”

“Ed, I swear to god—”

“Will you let me finish?” Ed exclaimed, throwing his hands out and then crossing them emphatically in front of himself. He was a little less graceful than Jim had seen him recently, encumbered by the first aid kit as he was. It reminded him a little more of the Ed he had been, and not Ed he knew now. “It’s not about her. I have _zero_ interest in making that mistake again. I was just wondering if she had time to stitch you up before Barbara delivered the good news.” 

Jim touched the patch on his neck and looked down into his empty glass. When had that happened? “It’s not bleeding.”

“You still need stitches,” Ed told him, venturing a little closer. He went for the scotch first, putting the kit down on the table and examining the label. Without looking at Jim, he held out a hand expectantly. Jim placed his glass into it, and Ed poured out a generous amount before passing it back. “It won’t be pleasant.”

“I’ve had plenty,” Jim said, taking a generous swallow. 

“Me too,” Ed said, opening the kit. Jim eyed him up and down. Maybe he was referring to the stab wound Lee had inflicted. If so, Jim had many, _many_ more than that. “Doesn’t make them feel any nicer.”

Jim watched him as he prepared for the sutures. Was he really going to trust Nygma to stitch his neck? What kind of experience did he have anyways, aside from corpses?

“You sure you know how to do this?” Jim asked. Ed scoffed, shooting him an annoyed glance. 

“Believe me when I tell you that stitches are _child’s play_ for me,” Ed told him, snickering like he’d just made a nasty joke. “Besides, I guarantee you I’ve done more stitches than any medical professional, though I don’t have a lot of information to give you as to how well they heal...”

“See, that’s not helpful,” Jim said, nervously taking another sip. 

“Well, my talents have been good enough for me and good enough for Oswald,” Ed haughtily replied, “and I’m the best option you have. Unless you’re willing to let Lee stick you with needles. She can be rather aggressive with her doctoring—” 

“Yeah, you know what, go ahead,” Jim said. Lee’s bedside manner ranged from compassionate and loving to downright _abysmal._ He didn’t want to roll the dice and see what he got. Ed smiled happily, apparently pleased to have been chosen despite the admittedly limited options available. 

“I’ve only done this on people who were lying down,” Ed said, pulling over a chair and the lamp, “But it shouldn’t be any more difficult right side up, and there really isn’t any room here. The M.E.’s office is a mess, have you seen?” Jim nodded. 

“It’s a little hard to look at,” Edward babbled, “I put so much work into organizing—”

He went quiet, carefully peeling off the tape that was holding the gauze in place. “Well, I guess it shouldn’t really bother me, should it?”

Jim was at a loss for what to say. “We got hit by Scarecrow, some of them got in and trashed the place.”

“Jonathan Crane,” Ed said, pulling out the peroxide. “This might sting a bit.” Jim flinched as Ed went to work cleaning out the wound, trying to hold still.

“I always felt a little guilty about what happened to him,” Ed confessed. Jim’s grip on the scotch tightened. “Maybe if I’d taken it a little more seriously—his father’s work was just so fascinating, and I wanted to explain it to you—to both of you. If I’d just, I don’t know, been faster and gotten to the point like Bullock was always on my case about then maybe you would have found them faster and—”

“Ed,” Jim interrupted his rambling. “We can’t focus on the what ifs. We were too slow. What happened, happened. Now Scarecrow is a dangerous man and a threat to the citizens of Gotham.”

“It’s really that easy for you?” Ed asked. “I still remember… he was just a _kid_. I went to the hospital once to see how he was doing and I—it was too hard to watch. The doctors and nurses were used to it, but I…” He shook his head and pointed to the glass in Jim’s hand.

“Finish that.” Jim complied, wondering all the while how much of the man before him he still knew. Would Ed have wavered now in the face of a young man begging for a reprieve? He’d once watched a woman crumble in front of him without flinching. What was the difference between the two, that one affected him and the other did not? Did he still feel that guilt, or was it merely a recollection at this point?

“So, how many stitches will I need?” Jim asked, giving his glass to Ed for another refill. 

“It’s hard to know in advance,” Ed told him, adjusting the light and checking over the wound again. “Generally, you just stitch until the wound is closed.”

“Give me an estimate,” Jim said, because he knew he could. 

“Hmm,” Ed replied, dragging a careful finger alongside the laceration. “Judging solely on the length of the wound, I’d say about a dozen.” 

He put a finger on Jim’s chin and tilted it up and away, humming in careful consideration, “Maybe 13 stitches for luck; make it a baker’s dozen.”

“Do you believe in luck?” Jim asked, taking another sip. Ed froze, and there was a long moment of silence between them. His eyes flicked over Jim’s face, a soft, warm brown in the yellow light. 

“No,” he answered, like he was confessing a well-kept secret. Ed turned away and took up the necessary implements. “Drink up.”

Ed was careful during the process, his full concentration allotted to the wound on Jim’s neck. Perhaps the slight pain of the needle wasn’t the best baseline for comparison, but the feeling of Ed’s fingers gentle on the skin of his neck was making his heart pound. He knew it wasn’t fear that was the cause, watching Ed’s every expression as he worked. He licked his lips often, biting the bottom one and poking his tongue out in concentration from time to time. When his nails dragged almost imperceptibly along Jim’s throat, it was almost a ticklish sensation. Ed’s fingers were long, his hands delicate and well-suited for the piano playing Jim had once born astonished witness to. He didn’t doubt Ed’s dexterity, and as he worked Jim felt less nervous about his former coworker turned serial killer stitching his neck. (Though the scotch probably was helping.)

“Lucky number thirteen,” Ed informed him, alerting Jim to the daze he’d been in. “Just as predicted.” Jim felt the pulling at his skin as Ed completed it, running a finger along the line of them when he was done. He shivered at the feeling and almost felt at a loss when Ed pulled away. 

“There’ll be a scar, but I should think it would hardly be noticable. The cut was very clean—sorry about that, by the way. You know it wasn’t really my fault.” At this Ed watched him closely, waiting for Jim’s response. 

Jim looked away. “No, it wasn’t your fault. And I—I should have believed you, Ed. You’re not so different from that guy who asked me a riddle my first day on the job.” He turned back just in time to see Ed flinch away before standing and busying himself with the kit again. 

“You’re wrong on that count,” Ed muttered under his breath, handing him a small mirror. “Take a look.”

Edward had done a beautiful job, though the fact that he’d taken his time certainly helped. Jim never would have gotten such perfect, even stitching in the army. He’d hardly felt a thing in comparison to the way the medics in the field went about it… but again, that was probably helped by the scotch. 

“Thanks,” Jim said, “nicest stitching I’ve ever had.” Ed visibly preened, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Thank you, Detective,” he said, freezing at his mistake. “I mean—”

“You’re welcome,” Jim intervened. “How’s your head doing?” In the span of a heartbeat, Edward seemed to shrink, posture curling in. 

“It’s fine,” Edward said, busying himself with gauze and tape before returning to the chair beside Jim. “It’s best that you try to move your neck as little as possible, but I know you’re going to ignore that advice.” He quickly patched over the stitches, Jim catching his wrist before he could stand again. 

“Let me check it over,” Jim insisted, rising and grabbing the antibiotic cream Ed had used. “Can’t be easy to see the back of your head.”

Edward was stiff as Jim gently trailed his fingers through his hair, looking for the staples he’d see Strange apply. The immediate area around the incisions looked a little irritated, and Jim began applying the ointment, starting at the back of his head. Jim was no expert, but even he knew it was typical procedure to shave the area before doing any sort of operation on the skull. The only area that didn’t apply was with autopsies, which he’d seen both Lee and Ed performing before.There was no reason to worry about infection with a corpse, and the idea was to try and maintain the body’s appearance for any funeral rites to follow. Maybe Doctor Strange was a little too used to raising corpses, and a little less used to keeping the living alive. 

“Do you know when these staples should come out?” Jim asked. Edward shook his head.

“I was awake the entire time, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. Some of the instruments he used were completely unfamiliar to me. I could feel everything he was doing but it hurt so badly I couldn’t make sense of it…”

“Maybe when Lee is in a better mood she’ll offer an opinion,” Jim suggested. Ed couldn’t help but laugh. 

“If that’s my only option, I think I’ll be pulling these out of my head myself.”

“There’s always Lucius,” Jim suggested. Ed hummed.

“Well, he did prove himself capable with the chip, but I didn’t like him messing with my wernicke’s area. It was... invasive.” Jim moved another small section of hair aside. Yes, Ed had certainly had his fair share of people messing with his head.

“Am I hurting you at all?” Jim asked, gently smeering more of the ointment into his scalp. 

“No,” Edward whispered. “It kind of feels nice, actually.” Jim continued his careful journey around Edward’s cranium, combing his fingers carefully through his hair to avoid pulling it at all. He circled around Edward’s chair, occasionally adjusting the lamp to see better. Finishing with the last patch, he tried to arrange Edward’s hair so it wasn’t sticking up all over the place, smoothing over it with his palms so it lay flat again. When he moved back, Ed’s eyes were shimmering with tears, wet streaks trailing down his cheeks. 

“Jesus, Ed, did I hurt you?” Jim asked, crouching down and cupping his face. He felt terrible. Ed has managed to make getting stitches in his neck downright pleasant, and he’d managed to fuck up putting a little bit of antibiotic on a nearly closed wound. 

“No,” Ed said, shaking his head minutely as Jim dragged his thumb across his cheeks, wiping them away. “It’s just... you just… you’re being so _kind_.” Ed sobbed and closed his eyes, more tears spilling down his cheeks. Jim didn’t know what to say.

“You’re okay,” he settled on, pushing Ed’s glasses more firmly onto his nose and continuing to wipe at his cheeks. 

“I’m so _afraid_ ,” he gasped, eyes fluttering open to meet Jim’s “What if there’s another chip in my head? How can we know? What if they get me again; how will _I_ know?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Jim assured him. Ed’s eyelashes had stuck together from his tears, glimmering around his honey brown eyes. His face was flushed pink, and he looked so vulnerable in this moment that Jim couldn’t imagine he’d ever done anyone wrong. Ed deserved his protection as much as any other person did, maybe moreso for the things Jim had done to him in turn. “I won’t let that happen.”

Ed’s lips parted further, maybe to respond, but whatever he was going to say was lost when Jim covered them with his own, his hands firm on Ed’s jaw as he pressed their mouths together and tried not to think about how monumentally stupid he was being. None of that mattered now that Ed was kissing back, hands landing on his waist and trying to pull him closer. Jim let go of his face in favor of grabbing Ed’s hips and pulling him to the edge of the chair. Ed hummed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Jim’s shoulders, tilting his head and kissing back with fervour. His thighs tightened around Jim’s waist at his encouragement, pulling Ed’s slim legs so they were around him. Jim was already crouched down, so it took little effort to lift with his legs and take Ed with him. 

Ed gasped and broke the kiss, clutching him tightly despite the fact that he hardly needed to. He was fairly light for his height, and Jim was in no danger of dropping him. Ed shifted slightly, smirking when he felt Jim’s interest pressing into his ass.

“You have a real saviour complex, you know,” he quipped, rolling his hips. In his smile Jim saw a challenge, one he was happy to accept. He moved to the desk and swept his hand over it, clearing the side that lacked the scotch and the first aid kit. He set Edward down so he was perched on the edge of it and then captured his lips once more, his hands free to roam across Ed’s lean frame. Ed moaned in response and gripped his biceps, his hips rocking into Jim’s as he pulled him closer with his long legs. 

All at once he stopped, pulling away and pressing a hand to Jim’s chest.

“No offense,” he began, panting from the kiss, “but I don’t really feel like being the _second_ person you’ve screwed in this office.”

“What makes you think you’d be the second?” Jim asked, smiling playfully. Edward seemed enraptured by his grin, and it occurred to Jim that Edward had never seen this side of him before.

“Detective,” Ed purred, defaulting to his old title yet again. Jim had a feeling he’d consciously chosen to this time. “Are you teasing me?”

Jim leaned in, his breath hot on Ed’s ear. He smirked when he felt Ed shiver, whispering as he slid his hands up the inside of his thighs, “Do you want to be teased?”

“A guy likes to feel special,” Ed pouted dramatically, tracing his fingers along Jim’s jaw. “Am I the rebound for your rebound?”

“Am I yours?” Jim countered. Now Edward was really frowning as he pulled away. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, tone gone frosty. 

“I mean, didn’t you and Oswald...?”

“No!” Edward snapped. “Never! We were just _friends_.” Jim wasn’t sure how to recover the mood they’d had before. He had just been trying to play along as Ed had been playing with him, but clearly Ed’s relationship with Oswald was an ever sorer subject than his own relationships with Barbara and Lee. Then again, Ed was a lot more volatile in general than he was. His good moods could vanish in a snap if you pushed the wrong button. 

“We might have, though,” Ed admitted, his tone softer than any previous one Jim could recollect hearing from him. “If… if things had been different.”

“I understand,” Jim said, because he did. Sometimes things got in the way or changed. You never quite knew where you stood until you _did_ , and by then it was too late. He leaned in slowly, giving Edward the chance to stop him before he gently pressed their lips together once more. Ed clutched him desperately, his soft moans a clear demand for more. Jim was all too willing, pulling Ed tightly against his body as he claimed his mouth, feeling himself grow harder in his pants the longer they kissed. Ed pushed a hand into his hair and kissed him deeper, his hips rocking slightly beneath Jim’s, wanton and seeking friction. 

Jim’s lips descended onto his throat and in no time Edward was whimpering and crying out for him, “Jim, Jim, _Jim_.”

He cupped the front of Ed’s pants and rubbed him through them, biting down on the side of Ed’s throat. Ed gasped out a curse, and it was the hottest thing Jim had ever heard. Already there was a damp patch forming under his fingers; Ed was so sensitive. He was like putty in Jim’s hand.

“You’re such a mess,” Jim told him, sucking kisses into the side of Ed’s throat. He pulled away to really look at him, stroking along his length despite the barrier of his trousers. “Already dripping and desperate for it. Do you want me to touch you?” 

Ed’s chest was heaving, cock twitching beneath Jim’s hand. His lips formed a thin line, then he shook his head and pushed Jim away. Jim staggered back before he could even process what Ed meant, watching him flee to the door, one hand on the knob already. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t. _We_ can’t. There’s just… we both have too much baggage, and this will only complicate things.” Jim stood slack-jawed as he opened the door and slipped through, unable to get a word in before Ed disappeared with a soft click. 

Turning to the desk once more, Jim threw back another glass and then grabbed the bottle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Jim are definitely into each other, just not at much as they're into other people. Is fucking someone to get over the person you actually want healthy? NO. Are they going to do it anyways? Hint: there's a reason for the second chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Jim find a quick fix to their problems in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied/referenced child abuse.

Walker had only upped her game over the following week. Earlier they’d all been crammed into Edward’s library hideout, pouring over plans he’d only just managed to get his hands on unharmed. Oswald had been _pissed_ when he found out, and while Jim understood his concern, there were greater things at risk here than any single person. Despite the close call, Ed had been fine. And they were all better off for it because of the risk he took. Unfortunately, Oswald didn’t see it that way. Even now, the pair were engaged in a screaming match down the hall, not that the distance made any difference regarding who could hear them. At the moment, Jim was the only witness to their spat. 

“If you’re so afraid, why don’t you just leave like we planned to?”

“You think I’m afraid for myself? I’m staying here to keep you safe, yet you insist on running suicide missions for Jim Gordon!”

“For anyone else: they would be. That’s why _I_ have to do them.”

“I know you still feel guilty about Haven—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“It wasn’t your fault; stop throwing yourself into the crossfire as punishment!”

“Screw you, Oswald!”

Jim ducked his head when Oswald emerged, slamming the door to Edward’s ‘bedroom’ as he did. Jim had found himself in Ed’s position before: reacting defensively when someone who cared about him finally called him out on his self-destructive tendencies. It was as good as an admission on Ed’s part, without being a confirmation. Telling Oswald to get lost allowed him to save face somewhat, despite the fact that Oswald had probably hit the nail on the head. Yes, Jim was all too familiar with this cycle from his own personal life.

The three of them were on their own in the library; everyone else had their own small parts to play for some time. It was as good a moment as any for a lovers’ quarrel, seeing as an audience of one was likely to be the smallest crowd they’d get for some time. Oswald stood outside the door, forehead pressed to the wood as he inhaled harshly through his nose, perhaps attempting to control his anger. All at once he slammed his fist into it and then spun, stomping away. Jim was not thrilled to be in the direction of ‘away’. 

“Jim,” Oswald said, face twisted with barely-contained anger. “We need to talk.”

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Jim said, hands up in mock surrender.

“You already are,” Oswald sneered. “You’re using him.”

“Ed volunteers,” Jim responded, “and he’s saved a lot of lives.”

“Ed has… problems,” Oswald whispered. “He doesn’t fully appreciate the risks he’s taking. He’s not a soldier, Jim. He feels obligated help out of guilt and you’re letting him.”

“He’s a grown man,” Jim argued, “I’m not _letting_ him do anything.”

“God dammit!” Oswald slammed his fists into the table, making the candle-holders wobble dangerously. “You’re being just as obstinate as he is!”

“We’re fighting for Gotham,” Jim said. “There’s a bigger picture—”

“ _Fuck_ your bigger picture,” Oswald snarled. “I’m fighting for _him_. Maybe if you cared more about the people you love than the city you swore to protect, you wouldn’t keep losing them!” 

Jim gripped him by the lapels and hauled him close, snarling, “Watch it, Oswald.”

“Mark. My. Words,” Oswald spat, teeth barred as he leaned in to meet Jim’s glare, “If _anything_ happens to him, you _will_ answer for it.” They held each other’s stares a moment longer before Jim pushed him away. 

“I care about him too,” Jim said, “but this is necessary.”

“If you really cared, you’d know it isn’t,” Oswald said, resolute. Jim let him have the last word as he turned away, storming over to the fire and stoking it. Down the hall, a door creaked open. 

“Jim?” 

Jim watched Oswald’s reaction, wondering what he might do. The answer was... not much at all. He stilled, clearly having heard Ed’s call but refusing to look nonetheless. Not when it wasn’t him Ed was asking for. Jim approached the door and couldn’t help but look back at Oswald, angrily poking the roaring fire. His heart was in the right place, Jim decided. Yet there was an irreconcilable difference between what he thought Ed needed, and what he actually needed. Oswald needed to protect him; Ed needed redemption. They would be at odds until Oswald gave in or Ed decided he was finished. Jim understood first-hand what that sort of disagreement could do, the wedge it could put between people. Jim went through the door and found Ed waiting for him just inside it

“Yeah?” Ed reached over his shoulder and closed the door behind him, crowding into Jim’s space as he did.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Ed leaned down and connected their lips, and every ounce of tension Jim had held onto the past week _snapped_. He didn’t waste a moment before scooping Ed up and turning, slamming him back against the door. Distantly he worried that Oswald had heard, but with Ed whimpering and biting his bottom lip, he had a much more pressing matter at hand. Jim growled and snapped his hips when he felt Ed palming him through his pants, pulling his hand away and pinning it to the door, grinding up into his ass instead. Ed was wide-eyed, testing Jim’s grip around his wrist and swallowing when he couldn’t budge it. Jim let go, though it was only so he could move both hands below Ed’s ass, supporting him while he navigated to the bed. Throwing Ed down onto the mattress, he asked him, “What about this being too complicated?”

Ed gasped as his back hit the sheets, staring up at him for a single stunned second before he sat up and went for Jim’s belt, fingers scrabbling at the buckle. “It’s already complicated.”

He couldn’t agree more. 

Ed whipped off his belt and undid the button and fly, reaching into his underwear and pulling out his cock. Jim let loose a guttural moan as Ed took the head between his lips, his hand working over the rest of him. When he’d pictured this happening, he hadn’t imagined Ed being so bold. His first instinct was to put his fingers in Ed’s hair while he sucked his cock, but that still felt risky. He grabbed him by the nape of his neck instead, and Ed moaned around him, taking him deeper. Jim tightened his grip, holding Ed in place as he fucked into his mouth. All at once he pulled Ed off, saliva dribbling down his dimpled chin. It had never occurred to him that Ed’s mouth was meant for cocksucking before this moment, but his pretty pink lips were undoubtedly _made_ for it.

“Something wrong?” Ed asked, one hand still holding his cock in place, unmoving. 

“No,” Jim said, admiring the view a moment longer. It would have been better if Ed was naked. “Get undressed.”

Ed immediately shrugged out of his jacket, turning and throwing it over a chair by the bed. Next was the tie, and by the time he was finished with his vest Jim was in his undershirt. Ed’s full attention was on him as he pulled his tank top off, and he immediately began pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Jim’s stomach, up over his pecs and to his collarbones, which was as far as he could reach sitting. Jim relented and leaned down, kissing Ed and grabbing under his thighs so he could push him back across the mattress. He crawled over Ed, kissing his throat while he undid the buttons of his green, patterned shirt. Ed was squirming beneath him but holding Jim firmly to his neck as he sucked marks into it. His other hand trailed down the length of Jim’s back, trying to push the waistband of his pants down.

Jim rose and shoved them down himself while Ed shugged out of his shirt. Unlike Jim, he had no undershirt, throwing the button-down onto the same chair as his jacket. He laid down, and as he did the candlelight reached his chest, revealing that it was mottled with dark bruises. Jim gasped and instinctively reached out to touch them, pulling his hand away as if burned before ever making contact. Ed glanced down and huffed, crossing his arms over himself as he sat up. 

“They’re a week old already,” Ed explained. “The kevlar in the bomb suit keeps bullets from doing any fatal damage, but the impact still hurts.”

Jim surveyed them again, wondering why Ed hadn’t complained about it in the aftermath. He would have been right to. Their plan had never involved his being shot, hell, Jim didn’t even know he had been. As he noted the damage, he wondered what they’d looked like when they were fresh, if Ed had been taking ice baths and doing his damndest to make them fade since. Even a week later his skin was mostly a dark purple; it was almost sickening to look at. 

Had Oswald seen these? If so, Jim was beginning to understand where he was coming from. Edward has taken this pain without complaint, like it was deserved. Like he truly was _punishing_ himself. And he had immediately thrown himself back into the fray like he was fearless, like nothing scared him. Maybe the only things that did frighten him were things that had already come to pass. 

There were some other marks that could not be entirely hidden by the dark of the bruises. Jim noticed a nasty, jagged one on Ed’s stomach. Peering closer, he realized that wasn’t all. There will little ones, round in shape and mostly scattered around his stomach as well, though some peppered his chest. They were almost like freckles, but they were shiny with age and seemed to be very slightly sunken into his skin. He ran a finger across one, and that’s when the realization came to him. These were cigarette burns, though he’d never seen any this old. Marks like these had been a more common feature of his work when he was a beat cop, answering calls for alleged child abuse. Jim felt a sudden nausea come over him at the thought of someone doing this to Ed— _who_ had done this to him?

Ed pushed him away. 

“If you can’t stand to look at me, you can leave.” Ed was staring steadfast at the wall, though a minute trembling in his bottom lip gave him away. Was he ashamed of this, of what he’d been through?

Jim took hold of his chin, forcing Ed to turn his head and meet his eyes, “That’s not it at all.”

He guided Ed back until he was laid again the mattress, tracing his fingers from his bruised collarbone down to the waistband of his pants. Jim kissed him gently, one hand trailing over his ribs. 

“I just can’t take my eyes off of you,” Jim whispered, oh-so-gently brushing a strand of hair back from his forehead. Ed’s lip wobbled dangerously, and then he was surging up to kiss Jim, pulling the other man down tight against him. Jim broke away from the kiss to plant additional ones down his neck and across the plane of his bruised chest. Delicate butterfly kisses that wouldn’t have left a mark on his typically pale skin. Pausing as his kissed down the fine trail of hair leading past his waistband, Jim glanced up and informed him, “You’re breathtaking.”

Ed inhaled sharply and then reached down, fumbling with his belt. Jim took over and whipped it from around his waist in seconds before undoing his pants and hooking his fingers into them. He looked up to see Ed nodding emphatically and wasted no time in pulling them down his legs. Jim was prevented from removing them entirely by Ed’s heels, unzipping each one and pulling them off. Then finally, _finally_ he was releasing Ed from the pants that had been tangled around his ankles. His pale thighs parted for Jim and he happily settled between them, kissing Ed and enjoying the feeling of warm skin on skin. He reached down and hitched up Ed’s thigh so it was around his hip, grinding his cock against the softness of Ed’s belly. Ed moaned and sucked Jim’s tongue into his mouth, both arms wrapped around Jim’s back and attempting to pull him down harder against him, to give him more friction.

Jim pulled away with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, sliding all the way down his body before laying another one on his hip. Jim sucked a mark into the soft, pristine pale inside his thigh, biting another mark into the other. He kissed and bit and sucked his way down those gorgeous legs, lower and lower, until—-

“Oh dear, _Jim_.” He held Ed’s thighs back as he licked over his rim, delving his tongue just barely inside. Ed was shaking under him, a litany of _Jim, Jim, Jim_ spilling from his lips like he couldn’t control it. The hands Ed had tangled into his hair as he tried to push him deeper suddenly pulled him back. Ed’s eyes were black in the dim lighting, his face and neck flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “It’s not enough, I need you inside me.”

Jim’s cock twitched against the sheets and he nodded, kneeling on the mattress and letting go of Ed’s thighs as Ed twisted onto his side and fished a bottle out of his nightstand. Ed depressed the top a few times and coated his fingers before reaching between his legs, two fingers slipping easily inside as he passed the bottle to Jim. It was with rapt attention that he watched Ed fuck himself on his fingers, idly squeezing some lube into his own palm and slicking his cock. Suddenly Ed rolled onto his stomach, lifting his ass into the air. It was one of the most erotic things Jim had ever seen. 

“Don’t just stare,” Ed demanded, though there was a neediness underlying his tone that betrayed him. Jim coated his own fingers and slid two between his cheeks, delving inside. Ed whined and arched his back, shuddering when Jim crooked his fingers down. He pressed another finger into him and wondered if Ed had ever done this before. While he was taking Jim’s fingers with ease, that didn’t mean he’d ever been fucked before. 

“ _Please_ , Jim,” Ed said, staring at him over his shoulder. “I need your cock.”

Jim groaned and withdrew his fingers, curling them around himself instead. Ed reached back a hand to hold himself open as Jim spread him apart with own his free hand, the tip of his cock pressed between his cheeks. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Jim asked, hesitating.

“Not with anyone else,” Ed replied, pressing back against him. Jim was picturing it now, Ed fucking himself with a vibrator, spasming around it and imagining there was a someone between his legs instead, spreading him open and filling him up. Jim was honored to be the first to fulfill that fantasy. He slowly sank in, ignoring Ed’s whimpers as he did. He peppered Ed’s shoulders with kisses as he waited, taking the pause as a chance to examine the marks on his back. These were different, and there were few bruises to obscure them. Some scars were long and thin, and others were thick. Some were raised and some sunken. The more Jim observed, the easier it was to believe that this was what Ed had been referring to when he said he’d been given plenty of stitches before. 

“How’s that feel?” Jim asked, gently rocking into him. Ed moaned softly and dipped his head down. “I need you to tell me, Ed.”

“Feels good,” Ed whined, rolling his hips back into him. There was no denying it, Ed was simply stunning. His long legs were completely impossible and undeniably attractive, leading to a perfectly round ass. In this position he had pretty little dimples above each cheek, which became more pronounced as Ed began to fuck himself back onto Jim’s cock. Jim took hold a handful of each cheek and spread them, watching his cock disappear into that tight, pink little hole as Ed rocked his hips.

“You really needed it, didn’t you?” Jim asked, enraptured by the desperate way Ed was moving against him. “Needed a nice thick cock filling you up. I bet it drives you crazy when your fingers aren’t enough. When all you want is to spread your legs and have someone else do all the work for once.”

Ed was getting _loud_ , which Jim took to mean that he approved of the dirty talk. “Do you want everyone to hear what a slut you are for it, fucking yourself on my cock?” Ed whined and put a hand over his own mouth in response, his pace never faltering as he pushed his hips back into Jim. Well, that wouldn’t do. He definitely still wanted to hear every single one of Ed’s little whimpers. Jim pulled his hand away, interlocking their fingers as he pinned it to the mattress, hovering over Ed’s back and leaning down into his ear. 

“I want to hear you. I want you to listen to how desperate you sound. How long have you been waiting for someone to bend you over and fuck your tight ass like it was meant to be fucked? Did you finger yourself with someone in mind, or did you just want to be ready for anyone to take and use like a good little cockslut?” Ed shuddered and whined beneath him, pushing harder and faster back into him.

“ _Jim_ ,” he replied, shouting when Jim delivered one hard thrust in response. “Please.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted everyone to hear. Is that what you’re hoping for? A line of hard cocks out the door, ready to fill you up when I’m done and pass you around like a toy until they’re all spent?”

“Oh my gosh,” Ed whimpered, taking the sheets between his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. That was exactly how Jim wanted him, unbearably aroused while he fucked him hard from behind. In a minute, he’d start to really lay into Ed. This was only a warm-up, letting Ed shove himself back onto his cock until he was relaxed enough to take everything Jim had to give. 

“Or maybe you’re just hoping Oswald will overhear and take my place.” Ed immediately froze, glaring at Jim over his shoulder. Shit, he’d thought he had something there, given Ed’s admission that he and Oswald might have been more than friends had things gone differently. He knew he hadn’t misread the continued attraction between them, of that he was sure. Ed sneered, pulling off his glasses and placing them on the nightstand. 

“Are you fucking me from behind because it’s easier to picture Lee?” he taunted, and now Jim realized why he’d safely stored his glasses. The comment rang a little too true. True enough to piss him off. Screw the warm-up. Jim grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him face down into the mattress, fucking him fast and hard and occasionally spanking his pert ass in punishment for the slight. If anything, it only made Ed louder, moaning helplessly as Jim snapped his hips into him without pause. The mattress did little to muffle his noises.

“Does it turn you on,” Jim began, seizing his wrists and further pinning him to the bed, “knowing I could do anything I wanted to you?” He was relentless, loving the rush it gave him to have Ed so pliant and desperate beneath him, willing to take anything as long as he was being fucked. 

“Ah _, yes!_ Oh my— _Jim!_ ” Ed babbled, panting. “Slow down.” He changed speeds, fucking Ed deep but at a more languid pace. “Wait—I mean, _stop_.”

Jim paused immediately, releasing Ed’s wrists and soothing his hands over his sides. “Is something wrong?”

“I just want more lube,” Ed explained. Jim carefully withdrew, allowing him to search for the bottle Jim had discarded. It had fallen to the floor somehow, and Ed leaned over the bed on his stomach to grab it. Once it was in hand, he laid on his side and gestured to Jim with a come-hither motion. Jim settled behind him on his side as well, letting Ed slick his cock once more. He lifted his leg, setting his foot on Jim’s thigh as he guided him back inside, trying to move back against him more firmly. Jim took hold of his thigh and plastered himself to Ed’s back, snapping his hips effortlessly into him and quickly finding the same pace they’d had before. 

Ed craned his neck, reaching one had back to cup Jim’s jaw and pull him into a kiss. Their kisses were slow and easy, even as Jim continued to fuck him quick and dirty. It made him wonder if this was how Ed really wanted to be fucked. Maybe he’d wanted it slow and intimate from the start. Maybe he’d misread what Ed wanted from this. Jim wanted to forget about Lee and Barbara and all the things he was responsible for, to have a few minutes of no-strings-attached stress relief, to feel good… but why was Ed doing this? How had he envisioned this encounter unfolding when he first initiated it? Jim pulled away from their continued kisses, releasing his grip on Ed’s thigh. Instead, he ran a thumb across Ed’s cheekbone and cupped his jaw, fingers settling below his ear. 

“How do you want it?” Jim asked, keeping careful watch of Ed’s expression. Ed swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his pale throat. 

“Fuck me like you love me,” Ed requested in a soft whisper. It was as if he was telling him a well-kept secret, watching Jim through half-lidded eyes. Jim inherently understood his unspoken request: to fuck him like Oswald might. Gently, he pulled himself free. Gently, he turned Ed onto his back. Gently, he kissed Ed and kept kissing him until he took hold of Jim’s cock and impatiently pressed him back inside. 

Jim fucked him like he’d fuck Lee. 

Before long Ed was shaking apart beneath him, every deep, hard press inside making him cry out. His long legs were locked around Jim’s waist, helping him to meet every thrust just right—

 _“_ Oh dear _, right there!_ You feel so good…”Jim was thankful Ed’s nails were short, because he was digging them into his shoulders like he was holding on for dear life. Jim swallowed his cries with kisses and then Ed was clutching at him so he wouldn’t ever stop, messy and desperate beneath him. 

“Touch me,” Ed begged, and how could Jim deny him? He wrapped a hand around him, and Ed practically sobbed his thanks. Jim came undone at the sound, struggling to keep his hand moving as his climax washed over him.

“Jim— _oh_. Please, Jim.” Edward chanted his name, mixed with several cries of _don’t stop_ and _I’m so close_. Jim fucked Ed through his orgasm, snapping his hips until Ed finally came into his fist, nails clawing along his back, eyes squeezed shut. If Oswald hadn’t heard them before, Ed’s loud wail as he came almost _certainly_ would have alerted him. Jim wiped the sweat from his brow, chest heaving in time with Ed’s. Ed tilted his head, puzzled. 

“Did you just come inside me?” he asked, eyes widening.

“Sorry,” Jim sheepishly replied. “I should have asked, here—”

“No!” Edward shouted, keeping him from pulling out. His ankles were locked around Jim’s waist, keeping him firmly pressed inside him. “Stop, you’ll make a mess.”

Edward turned and stretched toward the nightstand, grabbing a box of tissues. Jim hadn’t seen _tissues_ in two months. “Here.”

He gently pulled himself free, using the tissues to catch his release as it spilled. Jim understood why Ed would want to keep come from leaking onto the sheets. Laundry was a bitch in these trying times. He cleaned off his cock and his hand, which was also sticky with Ed’s come. Ed was wiping at his chest and then between his legs again, throwing the tissues over the side of the bed when he was done and collapsing back onto the mattress. Jim copied the gesture and then laid beside him, unsure what Ed would want from him at this point. Ed quickly answered his unspoken question, pulling Jim’s arm around his shoulders and resting his head on his chest. He hummed and then settled, one hand resting on Jim’s stomach. Jim pulled a blanket up over him, placing his other hand on Ed’s waist over the fleece. Maybe it was too soon to broach the subject, but when else would Ed be this open with him?

“You know, I probably hate to admit it as much as you do,” Jim began, at the risk of ruining the moment, “but Oswald has a point.”

Edward tensed. “What do you mean?”

“You were hurt pretty badly,” Jim said. “I think that scared him.”

“Nothing life-threatening,” Ed mumbled, but it wasn’t exactly a disagreement. 

“Maybe you should slow down with the life-threatening missions,” Jim suggested.

“If you want to treat me like Oswald, you can go join him.” Yet he made no move to kick Jim out, still resting contentedly beside him. 

“I’m only suggesting that you think about where he’s coming from,” Jim explained. “Think about how devastated he’d be to lose you.”

Ed’s hand curled into a fist, inhaling sharply through his nose. Jim hadn’t thought of it before, but Lee _had_ stabbed him, and at some point Oswald paid Hugo Strange to save them both. Maybe Oswald had already told him all this, but it was worth reiterating. “I mean, how would you feel if something happened to him?”

He let the question linger for some time, until Ed’s hand was visibly trembling. He put his own over it, shifting back to gage Ed’s expression. He was crying. So he’d been right; whatever feelings Ed had for Oswald were clearly very strong. Ed cared, he cared enough that he was literally crying on Jim’s shoulder at the very _thought_ of losing Oswald. 

“Hey,” Jim said, brushing Ed’s hair back from his face. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re right,” Ed admitted. “Oswald’s right. I just—I just don’t know what else to _do_.”

“Those missions aren’t the only things you can do. I’d argue that it isn’t even what we need you for the most,” Jim said, wiping away stray tears. “Your intelligence is a major asset, and now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t know if it’s the best strategy to risk losing that. Not when you’ve been assisting Lucius in ways that have literally been keeping everyone in Gotham alive.”

“I’d argue that Lucius was assisting _me_ … but you make a fair point,” Ed conceded. “You aren’t just flattering me so I’ll listen, are you?”

“Have you known me to ever just flatter anyone?” Jim deadpanned. Ed giggled and buried his face in Jim’s shoulder, hiding his wide smile. It was good to see. When the giggles subsided, Edward sat up, wiping his tears away with a sudden sense of gravity. 

“We should get dressed.”

They did, and when they emerged from the bedroom Oswald was right where Jim had last seen him. He cringed. Part of him was hoping that he might have left for a while after they… well. It was extremely unlikely that he was unaware of what they’d been doing, and Jim was only mildly afraid for his life because of it. 

“Oswald?” Ed ventured, tip-toeing around the couch as if he was afraid of triggering his own explosives. Oswald glanced up at him, and Jim couldn’t quite see his expression. “Can we talk?”

“I’m going for a walk,” Jim announced, wincing at how loud he sounded. Ed shot him a look that could have killed a lesser man, and Jim quickly executed a hasty retreat. 

He wondered if Lee had time to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop a comment if you have a second! I know this is kind of a rare pair but it would still be nice to know if anyone enjoyed reading it.


End file.
